


Where the Wild Things Are

by alanabloom



Series: Monster Verse [2]
Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: F/F, Kid Fic, Tumblr Prompts, mini-fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanabloom/pseuds/alanabloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of oneshots, often prompts, set in the universe of "You Little Shit" (alternately titled "Monster").  </p><p>Latest, Jan. 18:  An oblivious thirteen year old Max discovers the music of Death Maiden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Package Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Two different people asked me for a holiday after Alex gets out of prison and starts living with Max and Piper, specifically mentioned the awkward Chapman family gatherings, Max being the only enthused one. So this is a little longer than some will be, and features two holidays. This is probably the closest to full on sequels.

“So. You’re serious. You’re just…not going to come."

Alex swallows a sigh, wishing Piper wouldn’t make this even more difficult. "I’m pretty sure I’m not even technically invited.”

“ _I’m_ inviting you,” Piper insists. "Trust me, I have the authority.“

Alex has to really look at her to see how truly frustrated she is. Motherhood has strengthened Piper’s patience, as well as her control over her temper.

These days, Alex benefits from that more than Max.

Now, Piper purses her lips and crosses her arms, and Alex can sense the trump card coming even before Piper throws it down.  "It's your first holiday out.  Max already asked if you get to come with us this year."

Damn her.  She's good at knowing how and when to use the kid.

A familiar mingling of shame and resentment fan out across Alex's chest.  She hoists herself up on the kitchen counter, opening a beer, trying to make the conversation seem more casual than it's starting to feel.  "I guess you'll have to tell him that  _Grandma and Grandpa_  fucking hate me.  I doubt they'd even let me in the house."  

Piper rolls her eyes.  " _Dramatic_.  They know you're liv - staying here."  She stumbles slightly on the correction, eyes skirting away while she continues like nothing happened.  " _And_ they know we usually only show up for dinner after we've been to see you on Thanksgiving.  Every year of Max's life.  It's not like this will be a shock."  

Alex stretches her leg out to kick Piper lightly on the thigh, waiting until she turns away from the counter, where she's packing Max's lunch box for tomorrow, to meet her gaze before asking, "Did you mention me coming?" 

"....no."  The admission comes quietly.  

"And did your mom ask?" 

"No."  Piper looks away, embarrassed, but she recovers quickly.  "I told you.  It's not up to her." When Alex doesn't answer, Piper pushes, "If it's not now, it'll be Christmas.  And then Max's birthday.  We'll have to get it over with eventually."  The certainty in her tone falters, as she adds after too long of a pause, "Right?" 

Alex makes a noncommittal noise and tries not to look at the hurt frustration flashing across Piper's face before she turns away again.  

Piper keeps doing that.  Trying to get her to say something that suggests this arrangement is permanent.  

"I've gotta head to work," Alex mutters eventually, inadvertently evoking one of the many reasons she can't offer Piper that assurance.  She buses tables and works as a bar-back, a few nights a week, from a place that's getting a kickback for hiring her.  A promotion to actual bartender in the next few months will be considered the height of her luck.

She takes another long swig of her beer then hands the rest to Piper, like a peace offering. 

Piper sips it absently, her face clouded over.  She obviously isn't happy with the way this conversation went, but she drops it or now.  "Okay.  You're picking Max tomorrow, right?"  

"Yeah."  One of the perks of working nights; Alex is pretty good live in childcare.

"Make him stay for Lunch Bunch if you want," she adds, referring to the optional afternoon session of Max's preschool class.  

"Okay," Alex answers, knowing full well she won't.  Piper likes to tease her about spoiling him, and Alex lets her, not wanting her to know that her motivations are more selfish than anything.

Most days, Alex wakes up to the crushing weight of failure, full of a panicked urgency that has nowhere to go.  She's become far too adept at quickly thinking herself right into a pit of swirling darkness.

At four years old, Max Chapman is the best cure for that.

 

* * *

 

"Alex!"  

Max's face lights up, and he instantly abandons the structure of blocks he was working on to make a run for her, nearly tripping over another cluster of four year olds to get to her.

Alex grins when he collides with her legs, ruffling his hair.  "Hey, Monster."  He tilts his head to beam up at her.  "Go get your bag, okay?"

She loves this part of the day, picking Max up, the way he's always as happy to see her as he was the day she was released, as if it's been much longer than five hours since they last saw each other.

Alex waves to his preschool teachers, who give her polite, thin lipped smiles - Piper had signed a stack of forms to allow Alex to come pick Max up, at any time, but they still seem eternally suspicious of her, probably because Max isn't shy about bragging to everyone that she moved in with them after getting out of jail - then offers her hand to Max as they walk to the car.

She straps him into the carseat in the back then drives, just letting Max talk.   

"And all the letters and colors, and the letters were on the letter tree, and the colors were on the...uh.  The blocks.  But I already know the letters already. Do you wanna hear all the letters I know?"

"Tell me."  

He starts singing, "A B C D E F G.  H I J J emilino P.  Q R S T U V.  W X.  Y and Z.  Now I know my ABC's, next time won't you sing with me?"

Alex angles her hand off the steering wheel enough to clap.  "Awesome."  

"Want me to do some more songs?"

"Always."

He raises his voice, too fast for the tune.  "Twinkle twinkle little star how I wonder what you are.  Up above the lord.."  He stops, as always, struggling with the word.  "Lord.  Wer-elled."  He starts singing again, "so high like a diamond in the sky..."  Max finishes the song.  "Do you want me to do Old Macdonald?"  

"Uh, of _course_.  It's my favorite."  

Alex never would have thought she could stand this.  The never ending rambling, punctuated with long, random pauses.  Max has two modes: monologues or endless questions. Alex is happy with either of them; she could listen to the kid talk for days.  It takes her out of her own head. 

Lately, being around Max is the only time Alex doesn't feel like she's falling short.  For some reason, built over years of weekly visits, that little boy adores her, and it's entirely uncomplicated.  Without Alex having to earn or prove it, Max thinks she's great.  

It's cold outside, winter starting to settle in, so they hunker down in the house for the rest of the afternoon.  Alex makes them both grilled cheeses with every kind of cheese they have in the fridge, and afterwards they play Hide and Seek and Dinosaur and Race Cars and Play Dough.  It is not much to be good at: roaring and tickling and crawling around on carpet and maintaining enthusiasm, but it's exactly what Max needs from her, so it doesn't make Alex feel useless.  

 

* * *

 

"...and Piper, now, you know you won't be able to use the oven at our place tomorrow, the schedule's very tight with the turkey..."

Angling the phone away from her mouth in case she can't stop herself from sighing impatiently, Piper half tunes her mother out as she goes on and on about the Thanksgiving oven schedule, waiting out the whole explanation before calmly informing her mom that she'll be completely prepared. She thinks wistfully of the days when Thanksgiving didn't mean seeing her family at all.  Since Max was born, they've tried to make holidays a proper, extended family affair, but the old tradition - a mish mash of friends eating together while her parents went out of town - definitely had its perks.

Namely, none of her friends probably would have cleared their throats and asked, "And Piper...I know I shouldn't have to say this, I _hope_ it would have been understood, but...you're not bringing _that woman_ , are you?"

"Who?"  Piper blurts out sarcastically, like a brat.

" _Piper_."

"You know she _lives_ with me."  None of the tiptoeing around the permanence like she has to with Alex.  Better to get her mother used to the idea.  "You don't think that's kind of rude?"

"I quite honestly don't care," Carol replies stiffly.  "God knows you'll do what you like, but I don't have to welcome her into my home."

Piper feels a hot wave of irritation, but she stays quiet.  It's hard to work herself into a pointless argument with her mom when Alex doesn't even want to be fought for.

It makes her feel very tired, all of a sudden.

She's short but not combative for the rest of the phone call, and she wraps it up quickly, taking the very necessary moment to shake off the headspace her mother always shoves her into before getting out of the car and heading into the house.

Piper always tries to enter as quietly as possible; she likes the days she can catch a few private moments between Alex and Max, witnessing that easy, effortless magic before they notice her.  Tonight she gets lucky; they're on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, their backs to the door, magic markers littering the area.  A cartoon is playing on the TV, but the volume's low and Max doesn't seem to be paying attention; he's on his knees, little face tight with concentration, drawing on Alex's bicep, probably adding scribbles to the skin surrounding her rose tattoo.  

Closing the door without sound, Piper leans back to watch them; Alex's head is craned to watch Max's masterpiece.  After a moment, she says something Piper can't hear that makes Max wrinkle his nose and giggle.  Alex grins back at him.  Easy and effortless.

Longing swells in Piper's throat at the sight of Alex smiling.  This is what she loves about these moments, but it's bittersweet.  

Alex never smiles like that for her anymore.  Only Max can get it out of her.

Looking away, Piper sets her keys and purse down on the hall tree, no longer taking care to be silent.  

"Mommy!" Max drops his marker to run for her, and Piper bends down to meet him.

"There's my sweet boy," she murmurs into his curls.  "Did you and Alex have a good day?"  She feels Max nod.  "Did you stay for Lunch Bunch."

"No," he reports, pleased, and Piper meets Alex's eyes over his shoulder, giving her a teasing look of exaggerated accusation.  

Alex shrugs innocently.  She's still smiling, but it's dialed back a few degrees, the light in her eyes dimming just a little.  If Piper thinks about it too much, she starts to panic that  _this_ is the effect she has on Alex now.

 

* * *

 

Alex works late that night.  Two shifts in a row is unusual, but she took all available shifts this week as other people asked off for the holiday.  When Piper puts Max to bed, he asks - again - if Alex is coming with them to Grandma and Grandpa's the next day.  Piper lies, says she has to work, and Max only sulks a little.  In his world, gown ups are forever having to work.

Before she goes to sleep, Piper plugs in the Buzz Lightyear nightlight that stays in her bedroom now.  They pretend it's there in case Max sneaks in in the middle of the night, which happens, instead of because Alex still can't fall asleep in the dark.

Piper fumbles awake when she feels Alex crawling carefully into bed beside her.  "Hey..." she mumbles into the almost dark.

She feels Alex's lips hit the corner of her still closed eye.  "Sorry," she whispers. "Go back to sleep."  

Rolling over a little, Piper makes herself find Alex's gaze. "We're leaving pretty early in the morning."

Alex's eyes flick away, like an instinct.  "I know."  She slips under the covers.  "The kitchen smells good."  

 

* * *

 

"Where's Alex?" is the first thing Cal asks her after greeting his nephew with a complicated fist bump.  

Piper grits her teeth and gives him a look.  "You really think Mom would let her come?"

Her brother lets out a low whistle.  "So you just left her home?  Like a pet? Damn."  

Jesus.  Like she doesn't feel bad enough.  As Max lopes off to greet the rest of her family, Piper lowers her voice to an angry hiss.  "You know what, she specifically said she didn't want to come.  And then Mom specifically said she wasn't _invited._ They were both pretty clear, and they were on the same side, ironically.  Nothing I could do."

Cal lifts his hands in surrender, then takes her stack of casserole dishes and escapes for the kitchen.

 

* * *

  

As always, Max is the center of attention, and Piper's glad to just sit quietly and let her son be an adorable delight, injecting bouncy energy into her stiff childhood home.  The only problem is he insists on telling  _everyone_ about his "best friend, Alex" 

Most of her relatives roll with it, but her mother's lips go tighter and tighter with every mention, enough that Piper should see it coming but doesn't.  

They're in the kitchen, Piper helping her mom move from the 'cooking' to 'presentation' stage, the sounds of a football game barely reaching them in the living room, and Max is sitting at the kitchen's breakfast bar, coloring the construction paper turkey to go in the center of the table while Carol asks him questions about pre-school.  Then, out of nowhere, Piper's mom asks, "Do you see Miss Libby anymore?"  referring to Max's baby-sitter, an older woman who lives in their neighborhood.  Piper used to pay her to watch Max a few days a week for the few hours between Lunch Bunch and Piper finishing up work

"No," Max replies without looking up from his work.  "Alex gets me from school now."  

Carol makes a stuck, high pitched sound.  "Well.  I guess that's convenient.  Don't expect she's able to hold a job."

"Mom..." Piper mutters in warning, but before she gets anywhere, Max glances over, his interest piqued.  

"Do you know Alex, Grandma?"  he asks eagerly.

"No, buddy," Piper cuts in swiftly.  "Grandma's never met Alex." 

"Grandma, did you know Alex has flowers on her arm?  And a skin bracelet?" He taps a crayola thoughtfully on his own arm, in the same place as Alex's tribal armband tattoo.  "Alex says when I'm bigger I can get ones like hers."  

"You most certainly will  _not_ ," Carol counters firmly.  She pins a judging gaze on Piper, still addressing Max.  "And your mom should't be encouraging you to be anything like _Alex_."  

Piper's pretty sure it's the first time her mother has ever used Alex's name, and it throws her off long enough for Max to assert loyally, "Alex is my best friend.  She's mommy's girlfriend, did you know?"  

"Max,"  Carol leans across the counter to look him seriously in the eye.  "Do you remember where Alex was before she came to live with you?"

"Mom."

"Yes.  In  _jail_."  Max always delivers that information with an almost proud tone of voice.  

"That means she's a criminal, sweetheart.  It's like...say I was reading you a story.  She would be one of the bad guys."  

For a moment Piper's too pissed off to speak - she can't decide whether to throw in the obvious problem in declaring anyone who's served time as a bad guy.

Max frowns, expression heartbreakingly confused.  "Alex isn't bad."  

"You wouldn't want to spend time with someone in your class who got in trouble all the time, would you?" Another pointed look at Piper.  "Because that child might get  _you_ in trouble, too, right?"  

Finally, Piper finds her voice, and it comes out too loud.   _"Stop._  That's _enough_."

Big eyed, Max swivels around to look at her, instinctively afraid, like  _he's_ the one who's in trouble.  Piper draws a deep breath, counting to ten in her head, then says, "Max, baby, can you go hang out with Uncle Cal for a little bit, please?"  

"Okay," he says in a small voice, leaving his crayons and moving uncertainly out of the kitchen.

Piper waits until he's through the door, then she rounds on her mom, her throat hot with pulsing, raging words, her eyes blazing.  "You _don't_ get to do that," she snarls.  "I let you tell me what you think, Mom, probably  _too_ much, but you don't get to shit talk her in front of Max.  He's  _four_.  And he loves her, you can't tell him how to feel."

"I'm sorry, Piper," she says calmly in that voice that's anything but sorry.  "But _someone_ needs to have a care on the influences you're bringing around that boy."

"Are you suggesting I don't know what's best for _my_ son?"  

"If you think  _that_   _woman_ constitutes what's best - "

" _Alex_.  Her name's Alex, and she's great with Max."  Piper pauses, trying to find her way back to someplace calm.  Her hands are curled into fists at her side, and she suddenly realizes she's nearly as mad at herself as her mom.  "You know, when I first introduced Max to Alex, I told her I was a package deal now.  Me and him."  She inhales sharply.  "Well, Alex is part of the package now.  Non-negotiable."  

Piper starts untying her apron, draping it over a chair.  "We shouldn't have come."

"Oh, for God's sakes, Piper - "

Piper ignores her, heading for the kitchen door.  "We're going to go.  And we're not coming back until you can accept the whole package."

When she steps into the living room, the TV's on mute, everyone staring unabashedly in the direction of the kitchen.  Max is sitting on the arm of Cal's armchair, watching her warily.  She gently touches the top of her son's head.  "C'mon, buddy, we're going home?" 

"Why?" 

"We're going to surprise Alex for dinner."  

The magic words,  _Alex_ and  _surprise_ , chase away all caution from Max's face.  He gets readily to his feet, and Piper takes his hand, not even giving him time to hug everyone goodbye, too afraid to get caught up in what's sure to be intense cajoling and negotiations for them to stay.  

 

* * *

 

Alex is on her second bottle of wine of the day, and probably her sixth straight hour on the couch, half-watching whatever Christmas movies the channels are prematurely airing.  She's sulky and drunk and full on wallowing in self-pity.  The whole day makes her think of her old apartment in Queens, the long lonely months between sentences.  

She's so spaced out she doesn't hear the key in the door, or the coming footsteps.  She only hears the sudden, gleeful scream of "ALEX!" that's followed almost instantly by Max dive bombing into her on the couch, knocking the wind out of her.  

"Monster?!"  She recovers in time for the appropriate retaliation - tickling - even as her eyes search out Piper.  She's carrying two pizza boxes, and she looks tired.  "What are you guys doing back?"

"We decided we wanted to have dinner with you," Piper says lightly, throwing Alex the look that means they'll talk when Max is out of earshot.

Max, though, has no regard for this nonverbal cue.  "Mommy got mad at Grandma," he informs Alex bluntly.  

Alex's eyebrows shoot up.  "She did?"  

"Alex..."

"Grandma says you're a bad guy," Max says, absently stretching out Alex's T-shirt.

At that, Alex jerks her head up to look at Piper.  "How does _he_ know that?"

Piper's face softens.  "Max, baby, go wash your hands okay?  Time for pizza."

Max runs off, yelling back, "Alex, we got one with the white sauce!" before he disappears.  

Piper meets Alex's eyes.  "Mom decided to share her  _very_ strong opinions with a four year old.  Which, honestly, I'm surprised hasn't happened before - "

Genuine fear is flickering across Alex's face, though she's trying to fight it off with pure irritation.  "How do you know it  _hasn't_ happened before?  Who knows what she's said to him about me..." 

"You don't have to worry about him," Piper says, almost gently.  "You've got a  _very_ loyal champion in there, trust me."  After a pause, she adds, "And I stopped her.  Told her we aren't coming back until you're invited to."  

" _What_?"  

"Yeah."  Piper's eyes are digging into hers, waiting for Alex to be happy about that.  Pushing it further, she adds, "I should have said that from the beginning.  I know, okay?  Sorry." 

"No, it's fine.  Nothing to be sorry for."  Alex kisses her, once, but it feels distant even while she's doing it.  "But you really didn't have to do a whole fucking dramatic exit.  You could have stayed."

Piper's face changes, shot through with disappointment, and when Max comes running back in and begging for pizza, they're both glad for the distraction.

 

* * *

 

Maybe it's selfish, that she was expecting gratitude, but Alex isn't giving her anything.  Not even relief.  Not even a smug I-told-you-so.

Piper had kind of seen coming home early as a grand gesture, big enough to alleviate all the leftover tension the Thanksgiving issue had put between them over the last few weeks, but clearly she was wrong.  Alex lights up for Max, she's right there where Max can reach her, but Piper feels impossibly distant, and she has to work really hard not to be jealous of her four year old son.  

Max wants Alex to read him his bedtime story; she works enough nights that it still feels like a special treat.  Piper pours herself a glass of wine and leaves them alone in Max's room, waiting for Alex to emerge so she can go tell her son goodnight, but the minutes tick by, much longer than any of the books on Max's shelf warrant.  

Finally, Piper wanders upstairs, easing open the crack of Max's doorway. 

He's asleep, nestled against Alex's shoulder, sucking on his fingers.  Alex doesn't seem to be any hurry to move, her eyes faraway as she threads gentle fingers absently through Max's hair.  

Piper feels every bad, uneasy feeling she's had all day melt into nothing.  "Hey," she whispers.  

Alex startles a little, noticing Piper for the first time.  "Oh, sorry."  Gently, she eases Max off her side and against his pillow, then stands from the bed.  

Piper comes a little further into the room, dropping her voice to  a whisper.  "Don't be sorry."  

Alex is quiet for a moment, not moving.  She's looking down at the sleeping four year old, her face cast in shadows, so Piper isn't prepared for the way her voice cracks when she speaks, suddenly, "I..."  Piper draws instinctively closer, hearing Alex draw a wavering breath.  She can count on one hand the number of times she's seen Alex cry.  It always provokes a strange, shaky wave of fear.  

"I can't believe how much I love him," Alex says finally, a catch in her voice, and all of Piper's worry softens instantly.  She finds Alex's hand in the dark, overwhelmed with tenderness, the need to touch her.

"I know," she says softly.  She does.  She got to watch Alex fall in love with her son, all across a visitation table in prison.  That was a gift.

"It scares the shit out of me," Alex adds.

"I know," Piper repeats, privately thinking that that's just being a parent.  She doesn't say it out loud, though.  She's still not sure that won't freak Alex out.

Then suddenly Alex's fingers slip out from hers, and she says in a quiet rush, "I've been thinking maybe this isn't a good idea."

Piper's chest goes cold.  "What?" 

"You and me, we've fucked each other over so many times.  We've _lost_ each other so many times, and we had to deal, we can handle it, but Max..."  Her voice goes wet around his name.  "He's just a little boy.  He doesn't deserve to get hurt.  Or left.  I can't..."  

Piper can't grab hold of the conversation.  She doesn't understand what Alex is saying, but she's caught in the panic of that first statement, at whatever isn't a good idea. 

"What are you talking about?"  Her voice is small and tight, but she forgets to whisper.  

Alex lifts her chin, looking at Piper for the first time.  "I shouldn't be here if it's not going to be permanent.  He shouldn't get anymore used to me than he is." 

For a second, Piper feels physically ill.  Every dark, guilty worry she's had since she adopted Max - almost four years worth of worry - comes to a dizzying peak between her eyes.  She wants to scream it free.  "So...what?"  Her words sound like they're tumbling downhill.  "This is about you not being able to  _commit?_ This isn't enough of a free fall for you?  Do you have any idea how selfish -"  

"Fuck off," Alex hisses back.  "This isn't sustainable.  Not for you.  What are you going to do, cut Max off from his entire extended family?  Are  _you_ really going to be able to give them up?  They hate me, Pipes, and that's not going to change.  There's still plenty they can say, like the fact that I'm a forty-five year old bartender...not even.  I bus tables.  Give me a few months and I'll be out of money and then I'll be a full on mooch, your mom will  _love_ that.  I'm giving you  _nothing_. You'll figure it out, eventually, and then I lose you  _both_ , but I'm not gonna fucking turn into someone who abandons him." 

For a long moment, Piper just stares at her.  Then she jerks her head toward the door. "Hallway. I'm about to yell and I don't wanna wake him up."  

Without looking at each other, they move out of the bedroom and into the too bright light of the hallway.  Alex's eyes are wild and red, and even she looks shaken by what she'd said.

Piper narrows a glare at her.  "You fucking asshole."  Alex's eyes widen in surprise; Piper doesn't curse much anymore, not since Max started talking.  'You don't get to play that card.  Like you're sitting around waiting for me to leave you."  Piper waits for argument, but none come.  The muscles in Alex's face tighten the slightest bit, and somehow Piper sees that she really does believe it.  "What else do I have to do?" she demands, and it comes out like she's begging.  "You thought i"d stop visiting you.  I didn't, not for  _five_ fucking years, Alex.  I brought Max, every week, his whole life.  I let him love you.  And that was a risk, because I had no clue if you wanted this.  If you could ever start to want it. Iknew _I_ did."  The anger drains all at once, and like a switch flips, tears rush to her eyes.  "You, me, and Max.  That's all I want.  That's what I've been planning for for  _years_ , Alex.  And you're right, you should just..."  Her voice breaks.  Alex moves closer.  "You should go now if you think that's what you'll want eventually.  But alI _I_ ever wanted was you to be home with us.  So you don't get to take that away from me and say it's  _my_ choice."  

She's crying by then, but still defiant.

Alex steps the rest of the way toward her.  Piper's backed against the wall.  She doesn't let her gaze waver.  For a long moment, they just look at each other.

Finally, Piper can't stand the waiting, and she's still too off balance to trust what she's reading in Alex's gaze.  "So?"

"What?"  Alex asks huskily, touching her gently on the chin, and something in Piper's chest starts to come undone.  

"Are you leaving?"  Her voice shakes.  

"No."  Alex shakes her head and ends up with her forehead pressed against Piper's.  Steady and serious, like a vow, she adds, "Not as long as you want me here."   

"Then  _no_ ," Piper clarifies firmly.  Then, more like a sigh,  "No leaving."  

Their mouths fall against each other, sealing promises.  

 

* * *

 

"This is getting pathetic."

"What is?"  Alex asks innocently, swiveling her whole body around so she can face Piper.  

"You're using a four year old as a buffer."

"Four and a _half_ , Mommy," Max corrects indignantly from over Alex's shoulder.

"Yeah, Pipes, four and a _half_ ," Alex repeats with a smirk, bending down the slightest bit to scoot Max up on her back.  It's Christmas Eve and, after a last minute, begrudging invitation, they've joined Piper's family for dinner.  All three of them...and Alex has been giving Max a piggyback ride since they got out of the car, his constant presence forcing everyone to be polite.

Piper waits until Max isn't looking to catch Alex's eye and mouth, _Pussy_.  Alex smirks, eyes flashing suggestively, and Piper turns instantly red.  

Alex isn't  _scared_ of facing Piper's parents, even her mom...she's more afraid of herself, treating them like the assholes they are, but it doesn't set a good precedent to always be sniping with Max's only grandparents.  So she keeps her buffer, and Max is more than happy to be of service.  

Cal is safe, at least, and Neri is a welcome distraction - she's pregnant, and every time Alex sees Carol Chapman talking to either her son or daughter-in-law, it's arguing about home births and names.  

She has to let Max down at last to go rip into his gifts from his uncles, but Piper pulls her onto a loveseat almost instantly, and it's more gratifying than Alex could have ever predicted when Piper curls up easily beside her.  

"It's kind of a bummer," she says in an undertone.  "Grandparents are supposed to be super fun, you know?  Spending the night with my grandmother was, like, this huge treat...we made ice cream sundaes and watched movies in a blanket fort."  She pauses, then adds blithely, "My parents aren't exactly fun."  

"My mom would've been good with him," Alex says quietly.  It slips out before she can consider the implications.  She's had that thought dozens of times.  It can come on at any innocuous moment with Max, moments that fill her up with affection and, in the next heartbeat, leave her breathless with the thought that her mother will never meet him.  

Which is silly.  

Her mother wouldn't have been his grandmother.  Because Max isn't, technically, her son.

But tonight, even more than usual, has Alex feeling that Max, and Piper, too, is still somehow  _hers_.  

Her family.  Her package deal.  

She looks over, checking Piper's reaction to the unthinking comment.  Piper's eyes are soft and glowing, reflecting Christmas tree lights.  "Max would have  _loved_ your mom."  

Alex kisses her, light and gentle, right there in the middle of her parents living room.  

 


	2. Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: Max being obsessed with Alex's tattoos. Already planted the seeds for that in the first one, but anyway.

It starts when she’s still in prison.  By the time he's around two, Max usually ends up on her lap during visits, pressing sticky fingers to the tattoos on her arm, and asking at least every few weeks how she got them there.

One visit he shows up and immediately starts squirming against Piper's right hip until she puts him down, even before they've crossed the visitation room.  

He runs to Alex with his shuffling, unsteady toddler gait, arms held stiffly at his side, and Alex bends down to scoop him up for a hug, but as soon as she's holding him, Max is proudly holding his arms out.  "Look, Awex!"  

Both his arms are marked with temporary tattoos, in various stages of fading or flecking off.  There are dinosaurs and superheroes and flowers, freckling his skin seemingly at random, from wrist to elbow, sometimes overlapping.  

Alex grins, biting her lip to keep from laughing and swapping an amused look with Piper, who shakes her head in a  _nothing I could do_  sortof way.

She takes one of Max's hands in hers and examines the tattoos admiringly.  "Those look awesome, Monster.   _Very_ badass."  

Piper makes a delayed, high pitched warning noise at the same time Max giggles against Alex's neck.  "Mommy, Awex said  _ass_."

Alex makes an apologetic face at Piper as they maneuver a hug in greeting.  "Oops, sorry." Then, sitting down at the table with Max on her lap, she addresses the little boy, very formal, "I'm sorry, Max."

He doesn't seem bothered, shoving his wrist in her face.  "See this one?  It's a pi-wate!"  

"So cool.  He's not scary, is he?" 

" _No_.  I wanted a flower wike yours.  But Mommy said it too big."  

Alex smirks at Piper over the top of Max's head.  "Hmmm.  It is pretty big.  But you have  _way_ more than I do, Monster.  So you're even cooler."  

He absolutely beams at that, and under the table, Piper kicks the edge of Alex's boot.  "This is entirely your fault, you know." 

 

* * *

 

When she moves in with them, Max gets fascinated by the tattoos all over again.  He likes to draw his own in magic markers, or sometimes commission Alex or Piper to give him more accurate renderings.  Half their washcloths end up stained rainbow from scrubbing marker off his skin at bath time.  

Piper can never bring herself to reign in the habit, not when it's so sweet that Max wants to be like Alex, and not when Alex is so unfailingly patient about letting Max "add" to her own tattoos with marker, anytime he's struck with the creative muse.  

She does give Alex no end of shit about being a bad influence - "At this rate, he's going to be trying to get real ones by the time he's in middle school" - finally pushing it enough that Alex picks Max up, carries him over to Piper, and promptly shows him Piper's fish tattoo.

Max immediately names the fish Stanley - seriously,  _Stanley -_ and demands Alex draw him an identical one, in the same spot.  Which is how she ends up on the couch, smirking way too triumphantly while Max and Piper, with her hair piled on top of her head, sit in front of her on the floor, turned around while she attempts to channel her poor artistic skills into a fish on Max's neck.

When he starts kindergarten, he wants to bring their tattoos for Show and Tell, which would involve both of them coming to class.  Alex seems game, but Piper gently shuts down the idea.  

"You know how he is...if  _you_ came for Show and Tell he'd tell everyone that you used to be in prison, and I'd have to be all noble and admit that I was in prison, too, and then every teacher at school will know he's being raised by felons."  

"At least that'll lessen the shock when he ends up being the only fifth grader with real tattoos."  

 

* * *

 

When she gets back from the tattoo parlor, even though they'd talked and talked about this being a secret, Max accosts Alex as soon as she sits down.

“What is it?” he demands impatiently, crawling across the couch and onto Alex’s lap for better access to Alex’s arm. He starts picking his fingernails ineffectually at the edge of her bandage.

Alex playfully bats the little boy’s hand away and gives him a teasing smirk. “I told you, Monster. It’s a surprise. I’ll show you on your birthday.”

“It’s only in five more days now!”

“I know,” Alex replies, feeling the familiar, bittersweet tug at her chest. Max’s knees are digging sharply into her thighs, and almost-six-year-olds are fucking _heavy_ , but all she can think about is that pretty soon he’ll be too big to sit in her lap. Pretty soon he won’t even want to.

Max pulls his eyebrows together, suddenly concerned.  “But, uh...that’s not my real present is it?”

Alex pulls a confused face. “We were supposed to get you a present? For your birthday?”

“ _Momma_.”  

“I hope Mommy remembered, cause I didn’t know anything about that.”

Max rolls his eyes, long suffering, an expression that is so very _Piper_ it’s impossible to remember they don’t share DNA. “I know you’re just messing with me.”

“Me?" She gasps, mock offended, playfully shaking his shoulders.  "How dare you?”

He giggles, returning his attention to the bandage, tracing his finger lightly over it in random patterns. Alex winces a little when he presses on the tender area, but she doesn’t tell him to stop. “Did it hurt?”

“Not much,” she answers honestly, glad Piper isn’t within earshot.  She's pretty sure the only way to discourage Max from pushing for tattoos by age twelve is to convince him it's exceptionally painful.

  

* * *

 

She wears long sleeves for the rest of the week, not wanting Max to see the tattoo until it's at least somewhat healed, using his birthday reveal as an excuse.  

He still asks everyday, multiple times, and on the morning of his birthday, he wakes them up before the alarm, diving headfirst into bed between them and announcing, "Wake up, we're having a party today!"   

Piper wakes easier than Alex, and she's dimly aware of Piper sliding over and pushing back the comforter so Max can settle between them as she whispers a happy birthday and pretends to scrutinize him for signs of aging.  

Alex has barely rolled over and given him a bleary eyed smile before Max is on his knees and leaning over her, pulling back sheets. "Now I get to see your tattoo."  

Smiling, awake now, Alex sits up and shows him:  on the inside of her upper left arm is an illustration from  _Where the Wild Things Are,_ the character Max in his wold suit and crown, roaring.  The illustration is copied closely, though the features are slightly altered, and you can just see brown curls peeking out from under the crown.  

Max delicately touches the tattoo, an awed expression on his face.  "That's from our book!"  

"It's you, Monster," she says teasingly.  The book has been something between them ever since Alex moved in two years ago.  The comparison had seemed appropriate considering her nickname for him.

Abruptly, Max grins remembering his part, and he yells with obviously six year old lungs,  "LET THE WILD RUMPUS START!"


	3. White Knight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt a sudden late night craving for some fluff. And I've been re-reading "Room" after seeing the movie (highly recommend, fucking emotional sideswipe and Oscar ready performances), so I felt tempted to try some 5 year old boy POV, so we start out with Max. But no worries, we're back to Alex and Piper's adult perspective by the end. 
> 
> This should be obvious, but this takes place sometime after the first oneshot in this collection ("Package Deal") and before the last section of the second one ("Wild").

Some very important things about Max Chapman:  

He's five years old, actually five and a quarter, because his birthday was almost three months ago and three months is a quarter of the year, that means one part out of four, and a year is twelve months.

He goes to real school now, just like his friend Finn, except Max is still just in kindergarten, which means he can't check books out of the school library yet but he can take home the ones from the classroom.  His classroom has a tiny treehouse, except it's inside and the tree is just cardboard, but it's still the highest part of the classroom and there are pillows in there.  Most of his friends like the Building Center best, but Max likes Reading Center because it's when he gets to go up to the treehouse.  

His middle name is Alexander.  He learned to write it the first week of kindergarten, even though most of the other kids only did their first and maybe their last names.  He likes it a lot because it's like a longer fancier version of Alex's name.

Alex is his best friend.  She's also Mommy's girlfriend, but he thinks best friend is more important, probably, even though she doesn't sleep in his room except once when he was scared and once when she fell asleep after reading.  She used to live in prison, and he went to see her all the time even when he was a baby, but now she lives with Max and his mom for forever, and promises she doesn't ever have to go back.  

 

* * *

 

Usually, Mommy takes him to school and Alex picks him up, except one time on a Friday Alex has to work during the day, which she usually never has to do, so Max takes a note to school saying he has to ride home with Finn.

He's been friends with Finn forever, which is extra cool cause Finn is two years older.  He's funny and nice, even though he does treat Max like a baby sometimes, but they're used to playing together a lot because their moms work together.  They make soap, which Alex says is like a fight club.  She always says it in her joking voice, and Mommy never laughs but Max does because the idea of his mom fighting anyone is hilarious.  She wouldn't ever.   

So he sits with Finn on the car lot, but he doesn't talk much to Max until two of his second grade friends are gone.  It's stupid, but Finn's like that sometimes.  He's being super nice again by the time Miss Polly, his mom, pulls up in her blue van to pick them up.  Max always loves riding in Finn's car because it's got an actual TV in the back so they get to watch DVDs, usually Spongebob but sometimes Hulk.

Alex usually takes him straight home after school - except for sometimes when they stop for milkshakes as long as it's just their secret - but Miss Polly always takes Finn to her and Mommy's office, so today Max has to go there, too.  After his mom hugs him hello, she promises they'll only be an hour, that they're waiting on a conference call and then they'll be done.

He and Finn get to sit in Miss Polly's office while they're on the phone next door, both of them sprawled on their stomachs on the carpet and hunch over a handheld video game, taking turns and exclaiming at the screen while Finn tells Max all about a new game he got on the TV at home that Max should totally come play soon.   

When Mommy and Miss Polly come to say it's time to go, Finn looks at his mom and asks, "Can Max sleepover?"  

Max looks up, eagerly echoing, "Yeah, Mommy, can I?"

He and Finn used to spend the night at each other's houses all the time, but they haven't really in a long time, not since Alex started living with him.

"He's welcome, either night this weekend," Miss Polly says.  "In fact..."  For some reason she stops for awhile before figuring out what else she was going to say.  "It's been too long since we all did dinner.  You should come over."  

Mommy looks surprised.  And a little like she does when she's trying to bust Max for lying (which she can always tell - it's like a superpower).  " _All_ of us?" 

"Yeah, why not?  Can't avoid it forever.  Tomorrow night?"  

"I don't know, I'll have to check - "

"C'mon, Pipes, surely we're past all that after this many years."

Max doesn't know what they _passed_ or how many years is this many, but Finn isn't being patient.  " _Mom_ , can he?"  

Miss Polly answers him, but she's still looking at Max's mom.  "Tomorrow?"  

"Mommy, _please_."  

She does a big sigh.  "Yeah, okay.  I'll ask Alex, but...we'll plan for tomorrow.  And  _you_ might want to double check with Larry, too."

"Oh, he'll be fine.  He should have no problem anymore, and if he  _does_ he and I will be the ones with the problem."

 

* * *

 

 

That night, after bath and story and bedtime, Max can't sleep right away.  He always thinks he should be allowed to stay up later on the weekends, but his bedtime is barely different.  He kinda wishes he could have slept over at Finn's tonight instead of having to wait until tomorrow.  He  _really_ wanted to try that video game.  

Max gets to use his mom's iPad mini for games, there's hardly anything else on it, and even though he's not _supposed_ to take it in his room, he knows it's just sitting out there in the living room like it always is.  Mommy won't even notice.  

He cracks open his bedroom door and listens.  They're not in the living room, and he goes extra slow down the hallway until he can see for sure that the only light that's on is in the kitchen.  

When he gets on the living room he gets down on his knees and crawls like a secret agent:  he can hear Mommy and Alex talking from the kitchen and they don't know he's listening.  He's the world's best spy.  

"...already know I think it's weird, Pipes.  But I'd even think  _working_  with her would be weird."

"She wanted to start the business back up, and I wasn't exactly in a position where I could wait for better options.  And the way it's gone, it's lucky I didn't."

"I'm just saying.  You won't see me wanting us to have playdates with  _my_ exes." 

"Uh, yeah, because your exes are crazy women who defecate in bags."  Max frowns at the unfamiliar word, trying it out in a tiny voice made all of breath:  _de-fe-cate_.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, that was totally dog shit."  Max presses his hands over his mouth, catching a giggle.  Alex forgets about bad words sometimes, but for some reason Mommy doesn't fuss at her about it.

"Either way, she  _set a fire_.  What would someone like that do at a playdate?  Probably child abuse."

"Well don't speak too soon, we don't know what's going to happen tomorrow.  There's a very real chance Larry might actually stab me as soon as we walk in the door."  

Stab her?  Like really for real?  

"True."  

Larry is Finn's dad - he has another one, too, but he lives not in the same town - and he'll be there tomorrow when they go over to play.  Max didn't even know Finn and his parents  _knew_ Alex, and he definitely didn't know Finn's dad was a bad guy.

Maybe he was in prison with Alex sometime and that's why he wants to stab her.

Max's stomach is all fluttery and sick, but the lights in the kitchen are going off so that means they're coming, and he has to run back to his bedroom but he's so scared about the stabbing that he forgets to even bring the iPad with him.

 

* * *

 

He can't sleep for a long, long time, he doesn't want to go to Finn's house anymore, maybe if he came over here his dad won't come, except Miss Polly said  _all of us_ when she was talking to Mommy.  

Maybe if he says he has a stomachache tomorrow they won't have to go. That usually doesn't work when he tries it on school days, but school is more importanter than going to play at Finn's, even when the grown ups are all coming too.  

But just in case...

Max has a sword.  It's rainbow colors, and it's like a trick: it looks like it's really short and just yellow, but there are all the other pieces inside, all secret. When he swipes it hard enough, the rest of it comes out and SURPRISE! the sword is super big.  

Uncle Cal got it for him when they went to the fair one time, back when Max was four. Mommy didn't like it at all, and he only got to keep it if he promised not to ever hit actual people.  

But it probably doesn't count if there's a real bad guy doing a real bad guy thing.  Especially to Alex.  

 

* * *

 

"C'mon, we gotta go, Max get your jacket...Al, can you grab the cake?"  

Alex does a big groan and an eyeroll, she _so_ doesn't want to go either, and Max doesn't get it because his mom isn't even acting like she notices, she just hands him a coat and makes a face at the sword.  "Max, why on earth do you have that thing?"  

"I wanna show Finn," he lies, and then he says, "But actually I don't really actually want to go anymore."  

"See?" Alex says.  "Max Monster gets it."

But Mommy's being mean, like she doesn't even care that _both_  of them don't want to, just gives them both crazy looks before her eyes stop on Max.  "Why don't _you_ want to go?" 

He can't say the reason because he can't say he wasn't in bed last night.  He just lifts his shoulders up and then down.  "I don't feel good."  

She checks his forehead for warm, squinting at him with the superpower that can usually tell when he's lying.  "You don't have a fever..."  She looks back at Alex, with her eyebrows high up.  "Did you do this?"  

Alex holds up her hands.  "Swear I didn't."  

"I don't  _want to,_ " he says, almost crying a tiny bit but he can't help it.  

"Max..."  Mommy touches his hair, and now she sounds all soft and sorry.  "What is it, baby?  You love playing at Finn's, you were so excited yesterday." 

"I just don't want to.  Alex doesn't either."  

"You see?"  Mommy's voice isn't nice anymore, but she's talking to Alex, not Max. 

Alex does a big sigh then takes his hand, the one not holding the sword.  "C'mon, buddy, we can do this.  I'll like it better if you're there, promise."  

He nods but looks mean at Mommy, and he doesn't talk to her the whole ride to Finn's house, because she knows about the stabbing and she's still making Alex go.   _  
_

He makes sure the sword is in his hand when they walk up to the house.  Mommy rings the doorbell and Alex turns around and makes a face at him, her eyes crossed and her nose all scrunchy but he doesn't laugh.  

Miss Polly opens the door, and Larry isn't there but Max holds onto the sword anyway.  The grown ups are all saying hi and talking about food and using fake voices, like the ones they use to answer the phone.  Miss Polly smiles at him for real, though, and says, "Max, buddy, Finn's in the playroom, he can't _wait_ to see you."  

Mommy pats him on the back.  "You wanna go play?"  

He shakes his head hard, and Mommy keeps talking over his head.  

"He's being a grump for some reason, sure he'll snap out of -"

"Hi."  

Mommy stops talking and they all look over.  Larry's walking down the hallway, and he's only looking at Max for some reason.  "Hey there, Max-o!  Good to see ya again, buddy."  Max regards him suspiciously, leaning back against Alex's legs.  

"Hey Pipes."  

"Hey."  

Then, after a bit of waiting, he says, "Alex."

Alex answers, not all the way nice, "Great to see you again."

Miss Polly looks at Larry.  "Again?"

"Long story."  

"Not a _great_ story," Mommy tells her.  

There's more quiet, and then Miss Polly says, "C'mon, let's take this in the kitchen - " 

Larry adds, "I was just finishing up the lasagna..."  

They start walking to the kitchen, and Max keeps pressed against Alex even when he hears Finn yell his name.  Both his mom and Miss Polly look down at him.  

"Go on, Max, Finn's waiting for you." 

"Huh-uh."  

" _Say somethin_ _g_ ," Mommy hisses to Alex.   _  
_

"I'm not gonna  _make_ him."  

"Is he okay?"  Larry asks.  

"He's fine." 

"Liking school this year, Max?"  Larry smiles when he asks, but Max just shoots him a mean face.

 _"Max_ , Larry asked you a question."  

He looks away, doesn't answer.  They're in the kitchen now, and Miss Polly takes the food from Mommy and Alex to stack on the counter.  When her back is turned, Larry picks up a _knife_ from the kitchen counter and turns to look at Alex.  He's about to say something, but Max doesn't let him.

" _NO_."  He lets out a huge roar, he is Max Monster he is brave and strong, swinging his secret weapon sword right at Larry's face.

"Jesus Christ!"  

 _"MAX_!"  

"Oh my God!"

He gets one more hit in, just on the shoulder, before Mommy picks him up, pinning both him arms to his side so tight he drops the sword.  She's right by his ear but she's yelling anyway.  "What are you thinking?!"  

"He's gonna stab Alex!"  Max howls, kicking and squirming so she'll put him down, because he dropped the sword but Larry didn't drop the knife.  

" _What?"_ He can't even tell who all said it.  Maybe everyone.   _  
_

He looks at Alex.  "You  _said_ he was gonna stab you whenever we walked in the door."  

Alex bursts out laughing at the same time Larry looks at her and says, "Real nice," all mean sounding except he's holding his nose so it comes out sounding silly.  

"Oh, _Max_..."  Mommy kinda sounds like she's trying not to laugh, too, and Max doesn't get why this is funny, but she's not holding him so tight anymore.  

Alex bends down to look at him, still trying to stop laughing.  "I'm really sorry, Monster, I was just making a joke.  I didn't know you could hear me."  

"He was _supposed_ to be in bed,"  his mom says while she sets him down all the way, but she's still got her arms around him.  

"Max, are you coming or what?"  Finn slides into the doorway of the kitchen, then immediately frowns.  "Dad?  What happened?"  

"Just an accident, babe," Miss Polly says quickly.  "He's fine.  You and Max go play."    

Max looks at Alex, not sure about going.  She messes up his hair, then leans close to whisper.  "It's fine, buddy.  I promise."  

He tilts his head back to look at his mom, for the first time worrying he might get in trouble.  She gives him a serious look.  "Leave the sword.  And apologize to Larry."  

He checks with Alex, and she gives him a tiny nod.

"Sorry, Larry," he rushes out, looking at the ground, then turns and catches up with Finn.

As they walk out, he hears Alex say in a loud, much happier voice, "Can't believe we were worried this would be awkward."  

 

* * *

 

After dinner and dessert, when Finn and Max are zoned out in front of the TV, Larry and Polly vehemently wave away all offers for Piper and Alex to help clean up.  Polly pours them each a glass of wine and insistently sends them to the screened porch, saying they'll join them soon.

As soon as the door to the house closes behind them, Piper meets Alex's eye and they both, at the same instant, crack the hell up.

"Right in the  _face_!"  Alex says gleefully, and Piper swats her on the shoulder, trying to reign in her own laughter.

"Ssh, ssh, the kitchen window's right there..."  She tugs Alex down onto the porch swing.  

"He brought a fucking  _sword!_ "  

"He thought Larry was literally going to  _stab_ you!" 

"God, I love that kid."  Alex smirks, finally calming down enough to sip her wine.  "You know, I've never had a guy swoop to my defense.  Wouldn't have thought I'd like it."  

"Y'know, this is totally what you get for giving our kid the nickname  _Monster_."  

The unthinking comment catches in the air between them, changing the atmosphere instantly.  Their eyes connect, and Piper waits, anxiety suddenly trembling in her stomach until Alex just arches an eyebrow at her, her voice suddenly quiet.  " _Our_ kid?" 

And, fuck it, it needs to be said.  She hadn't meant to do it now, tonight, and especially not here, but all at once she's sick of never saying it.  "Yeah.   _Our_ kid.  You know it feels like it.  You've been living with us for almost a year, and we've already established no one's going anywhere.  Honestly, Alex, I don't know what we're waiting for."  

Alex looks up, just for a second, the way she does when she needs to gather herself, and in spite of the fact that they've been through this, that they've pushed through the fears and anxieties, Piper can't help but feel that all-of-a-sudden scared, like Alex may be about to drop a bomb, some fresh and unexpected reason that this isn't going to work out.

But then, looking at Piper again, she says, "He still calls me his best friend."

"Uh, I know he does.  It's adorable."  

"It  _is_ , but...that's the thing, Pipes, I'm good at that.  Goofing off and making him laugh, making up stories.  I'm good at being his friend, but that doesn't mean...I don't know if he's gonna think of me as his mom."  

" _Alex_."  Piper's whole voice gentles, and she can't help but smile at Alex, because it's a huge relief but also because there's something oddly sweet about seeing Alex nervous.   _Needlessly_ nervous.  "Is that really the only problem?"

Alex scowls at her.  "Well not if you're going to laugh at me about it."  

"Babe..."  Piper grins at her, threading their fingers together between them on the swing.  "He calls you his best friend because that's the most important thing he knows to say.  It means you're...his  _favorite_.  Kids, even a kid like Max who knows he's adopted, and that love's all you need to make a family, even with all that...he's not going to think he gets to choose a  _parent_.  He knows I chose him, not the other way around.  His  _best friend_?  That's the most important choice a kid has the power to make.  But if he knew you could be his mom, too...if you  _wanted_ to be...Alex, he loves you, he's already there."  

Bright eyed, Alex gives her this gorgeous, grateful smile, and she leans into Piper a little, the swing gently swaying with the movement.  Piper twists a strand of Alex's hair around her finger for a moment, then grins.  "Besides, he's clearly already inheriting your criminal tendencies anyway..."

"Um, hate to be a stickler, but even though I have a more impressive criminal record -"

"Oh, yeah,  _impressive_." 

"-  _you're_ the one with a history of assault.  That's all you.  Screwdriver, plastic sword..."  

"God, I should never have let him keep that thing."  Piper catches movement out of the corner of her eye, in the window.  "Shit, ssh, they're coming."

"Fantastic," Alex snarks under her breath.  "Another hour of pretending not to stare at Larry's nose."  

Laughter bubbles up and out of Piper's throat, and she has to press her lips against Alex's shoulder to stop just before Polly and Larry join them outside.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Know it was a kind of departure, but Little Earthquakes will be updated and wrapped up very soon. This was just a super quick, un-proofread whim, the first time I've felt compelled to do fluff since season three.


	4. The Son of the Daughter of a Rock God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've got a huge list of Max prompts, from various time periods (including one that closely follows the last oneshot, and finally shows Alex adopting Max). But ever since someone asked me about it on Tumblr, I've been wanting to figure out a slightly older, teenage Max. So this started out part general introduction to Middle School!Max, and then segued into one of my prompt ideas. Hope you enjoy! Though don't worry, this doesn't mean we're done with Max's childhood. These oneshots aren't in any order.

“Have a good day, Monster.”

 _“Momma_.” Wide eyed, Max throws her a look that’s half pained, half admonishing, as if they aren’t still in the car. As if any of the other preteens slowly trickling inside can hear her.

Alex rolls her eyes, masking the dull, reflexive hurt that always flares when the twelve year old cringes at something old and affectionate. “Sorry, sorry. I wish you a pleasant day, _Maxwell_.”

That isn’t even his name.

Max huffs out a long suffering sigh and slouches his way out of the car without a goodbye. There’s a line of other parents, three lanes worth of their cars, snaking around the drop off area, but Alex doesn’t pull forward right away. She keeps her foot on the brake, watching her son with his black Chucks and red backpack plod toward the double front doors. He’s only got one strap slung over his shoulder - apparently the only acceptable way to carry it - and his small frame is lilting sideways from the weight of brand new binders and notebooks.

As he gets further away, Alex feels a flutter of helpless anxiety in her chest. He looks so small, smaller than the other kids, all of whom are carrying bookbags toward the school without trouble.

Outwardly, Max has claimed nothing but excitement for starting sixth grade, but he'd revealed his own nerves last weekend, asking Finn Harper about a dozen logistical questions about lockers and changing classes and where the library was, face tight with concentration like he needed to memorize every detail ahead of time, go in completely prepared.

Now, Max pauses just before he reaches the entrance and glances back over his shoulder. He’s too far away for Alex to see his face, and there’s no way he can see her through the tinted passenger seat window.

But Alex lifts her hand to wave anyway. Max doesn’t, just hoists his backpack up one more time and turns to go inside.

A car honks behind Alex, startling her out of the moment. She eases off the brake and creeps forward, still slow enough that she can text Piper with one hand.

_He’s in. And I need a drink._

So begins middle school.

 

* * *

 

  
Alex has _not_ been looking forward to their son’s awkward stumble into adolescence.

Piper doesn’t like it, either, although she says every parent must feel that way, that the true _kid_ part of having a kid is over too soon. Except Alex maintains it’s especially unfair for her; she got here late. She mostly missed out on the four full years.  So really, Max shouldn’t be _allowed_ to turn into a moody teenager at all.  Just for the sake of balance.

But middle school does in fact usher in days scattered with all the landmines Polly’s been warning them about for the past year: eye rolling and groans and monosyllabic conversation and the occasional short fuse outburst - Alex always side eyes Piper during those moments; there’s something familiar about Max’s puberty fueled temper.

But most of the time, Max is still Max: their smart, headstrong little boy with his off-kilter sense of humor that’s always been able to make his moms laugh, not the least bit for show.

There _are_ changes, though, small but frequent ones. Keeping up with Max’s ever rotating interests is an impossible task. His favorite bands change every few weeks. A video game that eats up an entire weekend could be completely abandoned soon after.

For awhile, he even develops oddly niche obsessions. One month it’s Rubik’s Cubes, with Max constantly approaching Alex or Piper and demanding they time him. This particular hobby coincides with Christmas of his sixth grade year, and, having already memorized the classic Rubik’s Cube pattern, he asks for novelty versions: double cubes, a Rubik’s snake, a pyramid.

By mid-January, he’s done with that, all Rubik’s products forgotten in a bathroom drawer somewhere while Max spends two weeks watching YouTube videos to master Yo-Yo tricks. He picks up on skateboarding next, which Piper especially feels is a dangerous escalation, but that interest is fortunately discarded after only a few weeks and minimal bruising.

Fortunately, there are a few consistencies:

Books. Alex is pretty sure both she and Piper gave Max no choice in being a reader. When he was a kid, he read everything, but his favorites were always anything weird and a little creepy. he loved the _Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark_ series even when he was young enough that Piper and Alex made sure to pre-read the stories. By the second half of sixth grade, Max reads almost exclusively Stephen King novels, even developing a specialist’s knowledge on the film adaptations. He loves looking up interviews about them, and is prone to very enthusiastic, Piper-esque lectures about the differences between books and film (“Momma, did you know Stephen King doesn’t even like the movie version of _The Shining_? Even though it’s like the most famous one? And if you read the book, it actually makes a lot of sense why.”).

Baseball. Fortunately, it’s a sport where Max’s smaller-than-average size isn’t much of a liability, and he plays a respectable third base even though hitting isn’t his strong suit. He’s been in Little League since he was seven, and is obviously pleased when he makes the middle school team…but he staunchly bans his moms from yelling _anything_ during the games, which takes at least half the fun out of it.

And music. Listening to it, of course, at least one white earbud permanently affixed to his ear like it’s jewelry - they almost always have to remind him to remove it at mealtimes - but also playing it himself.  Trumpet, for the middle school band: he’s good at it, first chair by seventh grade. And guitar, during weekly lessons and, on weekends, their basement with three of his friends, all of whom are mediocre individually and horrific as a unit, their sole talent apparently coming up with a new unnecessary band name every few days (“ _No_ , Mom, geez, we’re Tin Man’s Heart Attack now, I freaking told you that yesterday!”) (“ _Freak_ isn’t even a bad word, Momma says worse than that all the time!”).

One of Max’s friends - or “bandmates”, depending on what day you talk to them - is a keyboard player named Cash who fancies himself a true music snob, one of those kids who goes through a much too long phase of exclusively listening to old music he refers to as “real”, drawing superiority from his hatred Top 40. That type exists in every generation, apparently, and judging by his name, Cash rejects not only all modern music, but the old music his parents favored, instead turning Max and the others onto hard rock and, occasionally, heavy metal from the 70’s and 80’s.

This particular trend peaks around the middle of seventh grade, when Max is thirteen, and it has Piper and Alex grateful to headphones for the first time in a year. _Enter Sandman_ is somehow particularly grating coming through the tinny speakers of an iPhone.

One day after school, Max and Cash and their bassist Brian are crowded around the desktop computer in the living room, looking up YouTube videos. Bree, the other guitarist and only girl in their “band”, is absent, as is often the case.

Piper’s not home from work yet and Alex is staying out of their way; every time she even passes the room, Max gets the slightest look of dread on his face, like she’s a loose cannon that could shoot out an embarrassing comment at any moment, even though these are the kind of kids who probably reward her automatic parental cool points just for having tattoos.

(The first time she met Cash, standing in her kitchen and wearing a Zeppelin shirt, she’d made the mistake of an offhanded comment that she and Max used to listen to Queen when he was little - _Bicycle Race_ had been his favorite, closely followed by _Under Pressure_.  Judging by Max’s reaction, the fact that he had once been a small child was one of the more humiliating things about him, and his mother had just blurted it out to a brand new friend.)

She’s unloading the dishwasher in the kitchen, so used to relegating the constant blare of music to background noise that it takes awhile for recognition to burrow through her ears and to her brain, but when it does, Alex walks instinctively into the living room and hovers behind the boys just in time to see a close up of her father, decimating a drum solo in a grainy music video.

 

* * *

 

By the time Cash and Brian go home, Max has evidently loaded his phone full of Death Maiden music, so Alex’s father’s band is playing out of her son’s pocket as he paws through the refrigerator for a snack.

Alex passes behind him and tugs on the hood of his sweatshirt. “Headphones, buddy.”

“Sorry.” He turns down the volume, clearly thinking that’s a compromise, then closes the fridge door, unpeeling the wrapper from a stick of string cheese.

Alex smirks as he bites through nearly half of it. “That how you eat those now?”

Mouth full, Max nods. “I don’t waste time.  Life is short.” He grins when she laughs. “Hey, what part are you at in _Cujo_?”

She’s been reading it on Max’s recommendation. Piper can’t get through that kind of book, but Alex has always been used to reading pretty much anything available, and anyway, she kind of digs the Stephen King. Max is right, _The Shining_ is much better as a book - one of his most passionate and unwavering opinions.

“Uh, he just bit the mom, but she made it back in the car.”

“Ooh, okay, yeah, you’re getting into the good parts,” he tells her eagerly. “Also, I forgot one rule though…you can’t use this book as a reason not to get a dog.”

“You still _want_ a dog after reading this?”

Max promptly launches into an explanation as to how the plot of _Cujo_ could easily have been prevented with more responsible dog ownership, the muffled roar of Death Maiden underscoring the conversation, all songs Alex used to listen to in middle and high school with a fervor bordering on hero worship.

She tries to tune the music out, wants to ignore it and listen to her son with all his brilliant, nerdy enthusiasm, but she’s feeling strangely overwhelmed; Max’s voice, her father’s music, both so familiar and so far apart, like she can’t hold them both in her head at once.

So she ends up cutting him off, mid-sentence, “Max, can you turn that off if we’re going to have a conversation, please?”

“Fine…” He rolls his eyes and sighs, the instinctive response to any admonishment. He silences his phone, but says, “It’s Death Maiden, do you know them?”

“Kinda,” she replies nonsensically. 

“Cash wants us to learn to play this one song, Dirty Girl. And also Marionette.”

She wishes Piper would hurry up and get home.

“Hey. Remember what we said…homework as soon as soon as Cash and Brian leave.”

“But I’ve just got math and it’s super easy. I was gonna do it while we watch _Bandwagon_ ,” he says, referring to the sitcom they all watch together every Tuesday night.

“Well, y’know the show’s pretty complex. Better you have all your focus on it.”

Max groans but obeys, grabbing his backpack off the floor by the doorway but leaving his trumpet case.  Alex can hear the music start up again when he gets into the living room, and something about it keeps her from following him, taking her Stephen King novel and reading on the couch while Max sits on the floor with his homework spread across the coffee table.

Instead Alex stands in the middle of the kitchen and waits almost half an hour until the door finally opens and Piper comes in.

“Hey!” She’s smiling, that light infused _thank God I’m home_ smile, but it twists quickly as she tilts her head in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Jesus, do I look that weird?”

“Yes. Plus you were kind of staring at the door.” She crosses the kitchen, giving Alex a quick, habitual kiss hello, concern already settling. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry…” Alex flicks her eyes in the direction of the living room, lowering her voice a little. “Max and the guys have discovered Death Maiden.”

“ _What_?  Alex...God, I guess that does fit their repertoire.”  Referring to Cash’s parents, she says indignantly, “Deb and Leo need to start monitoring what that fucking kid listens to -”

“Oh, they’d never subject their precious little snowflake to censorship.”

Piper rolls her eyes in agreement, but then her features slowly soften into sympathy. She touches two fingers to Alex’s cheek. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Really. You go say hey to our boy, we can talk in a minute.”

“Alright.” She kisses Alex’s cheek before following the distant sound of music into the living room.

__________________

  
Piper spends a skilled ten minutes drawing information about his day at school from her son, then issues a non-negotiable headphones order before going to the kitchen to cook dinner with Alex, safe in the knowledge that Max is out of earshot and so is Death Maiden.

“It’s not the music,” Alex tells her, chopping vegetables beside Piper at the stove. “It’s been a few decades now, I can obviously handle hearing the songs, it’s just… _Max_ listening. And standing there asking me if I’ve _heard_ of them.” She shakes her head, looking almost angry at herself. “It feels like I’m lying to him.”

“You’re not.”

“You know what I mean though.”

“I do. But…maybe it's just the album of the day. He could forget all about it tomorrow.”

Alex pauses to throw her a significant look. “Max is already talking about which songs they’re gonna learn. You know what that means. It’s the only music we’ll hear for at least a month.” She nudges her elbow against Piper’s. “And he’s too much your kid…he’ll memorize their Wikipedia page, plus every article listed as a source and wanna tell us about it. It’s why I now know way too much about Black Sabbath.”

“True.”  
  
“I can’t have him learning the chords to some godawful song my father wrote and not mention he wrote it.”

Piper raises an eyebrow at her, prompting gently, “But?”

Quiet, Alex says, “But I don’t want him to think it’s cool. I did, for way too long. And I know for Max, he’s not any different than the other ancient drug addict rock stars they’re into right now, but I still…God, Pipes, I hate it.”

“I know. And I get that. But your mom _wanted_ you to think it was cool. Right? She told you about him as this rock god. You don’t have to do that with Max.”

“So I say to him…what? 'Hey, buddy, here’s the most cliche of all my shitty stories, that you need to know for no reason'.”

“Hey, we’ve always said it’s good to be honest with him about stuff like this. It’s okay for him to know our lives haven’t always been perfect.”

Piper’s parents had never talked to her about stuff like that; she remembers growing up with the vague notion that they’d never gone through anything difficult in their lives. And she never once thought they might understand when she was upset about something.

“Yeah…” Alex’s expression is conflicted. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll wait a day or two. His good taste might kick in and we’ll never have to hear a Death Maiden song again.”

* * *

 

But every morning for the rest of the week, his phone gets plugged into the car’s auxiliary cable and Death Maiden soundtracks their drives to and from school. By Thursday Max has gotten to the deep cuts, early EPs and obscure B-sides - including the song her father wrote with the lyric about throwing salt over your shoulder, the inspiration for Alex’s first tattoo at age sixteen.

Max isn’t awake enough in the mornings to be particularly chatty, so Alex is at least spared a running commentary of trivia or analysis, but on Friday she can’t help but ask, unprompted, “Are all these guys still alive?”

It's strange that she doesn't know. 

“The lead singer isn’t. He died a few years ago I think. Everybody else is, but they haven’t played in awhile anyway.”

“They were has beens by the late 90’s,” Alex mutters.

Max looks over at her, interest peaked.  “Did you listen to their stuff?”

It’s this kind of question she hates; it makes Alex feel deceitful. “Some,” she says carefully, hesitating before she adds, “My mom saw some of their concerts.”

“Grandma Diane was so cool,” Max says with a wistful sigh.

Alex had teared up the first time he ever called her that, years and years ago in some innocuous question. He’d obviously heard the title from Piper; it never would have occurred to Alex such a thing could be given posthumously.

Even now, it makes her chest pang a little. Max knows her mom only from stories..and lately, the stories have mostly been about Diane’s record collection or the bands she followed on tour before Alex was born.

There’s something to this, about her son calling her mother cool while they’re parked outside a middle school, decades after her mom called Alex the same thing in a similar place. Somehow, her goddamned father is still the reason.

Alex reaches over to touch Max’s hair, and he lets her for about five seconds before shrugging away.

She decides she’ll talk to him tonight.

 

* * *

 

They’re eating takeout Chinese food in the living room, Max on the couch with his legs stretched across Piper’s lap. He’s scrolling through Netflix on the TV while also waving one foot in Piper’s face, jokingly whining for a foot rub.

“Barking up the wrong mom, kiddo,” Piper teases, grabbing his foot and holding it still. She nods in Alex’s direction. “She’s the one who used to give foot massages in prison.”

“ _Once_ I did that,” Alex corrects. “And only because I heroically gave you food off my own plate.”

An exaggerated groan rolls out of Max and he flops dramatically onto his stomach, face pressed into the couch cushions. “Stop being _weird_.” Still flat on his stomach, he wiggles close to Piper again. “Gimme a back massage then.”

“You’re such a diva,” Piper informs him, nonetheless kneading the heel of her hand between his shoulder blades. “You gonna pick a movie or what?”

“Are you gonna whine if it’s a horror one?” He turns his head so one eye is visible, seeking out Alex’s gaze in the nearby recliner. “Momma and me’ll outvote you, won’t we?”

“I get three vetoes,” Piper warns. “And nothing like that last movie we watched with the giant insects.”

“Let’s watch _1408_ , there aren’t creatures or anything.”

“Fine. Alex, c'mere.” She moves over on the couch, nudging Max to make room. “Safety in numbers.”

Alex has been quiet, content to just watch the two of them, but now she comes to sit on Max’s other side, giving Piper a significant look over his head. “Hey, bud, before we start the movie, I wanted to talk to you about something real quick.”

She says it as casually as possible, but Max’s expression sinks into suspicion anyway. Narrowing his eyes, he demands, “What’d I do?”

“Uh, nothing that I know of. Anything you wanna share?” His gaze is unwavering, and Alex smiles at him. “It’s nothing bad, Max. No big deal.”

“What then?”

Piper stretches her arm across the back of the couch, draping her hand down to touch Alex’s shoulder.

“Do you remember when you were little, and you first asked me about my mom?”

He wrinkles his nose, confused. “Not really.”

Alex and Piper swap a quick, nostalgic smile. He’d first merely asked if Alex _had_ a mom, and then was mostly curious if her mom had ever met his.  
  
“Well, you did. But you never asked about my dad.”

It wouldn’t have occurred to Max at that age to ask; for him, some people had only one parent, and that didn’t represent any sort of lack.

Max isn’t looking at her; he’s slumped low on the couch, tightly wound and obviously uncomfortable by the random, serious subject matter. “Okay, so?”

“So the thing is…my dad is Lee Burley. The - “

“ - Death Maiden _drummer_?” Max’s head snaps up, eyes popping with awe. “Seriously?”

It’s there in his face, the _wow that’s so cool!_ she’d been afraid to see.  Instinctively, Alex’s eyes find Piper’s, steady and encouraging.  It helps her continue. 

“Yeah, seriously. He met my mom at a concert, and took her on tour for awhile. But they broke up before I was born…he left her when she told him she was pregnant.”

“Oh.” Max frowns slightly. “But did you get to see him play and stuff?”

“You know, buddy, I never really knew him. He was basically just my birthfather.” She uses the term because that’s how they refer to his biological parents; there's an implied distance there, and from the way the excitement in Max’s eyes dims, she can see it worked. “Your grandma Diane told me who he was, but he never contacted us or anything.”

“Did you ever even meet him?” Max asks, and Alex can see in his face the struggle to understand, a thirteen year old boy’s vague awareness that there’s something very wrong with that behavior. But there’s also simple, straightforward disappointment there, the flash of possibility of a rock star grandfather given and then crushed immediately.

Alex glances at Piper before answering quietly, “Only twice.”

Surprise flares in Piper’s eyes. “Twice?”

She looks directly at Max as she answers, “I went to one of his concerts when I was about eighteen. I didn’t stay very long, he…” She pauses, choosing her words delicately. “Wasn’t very nice. I went to another show when I was older, after my mom died…saw him for a second, but he didn’t recognize me. We didn’t even talk.”

Piper face softens, clouding over with questions, but Alex looks back at Max. His arms are wrapped around his stomach, face pinched in discomfort once again. “So…he wasn't a good guy.”

“Seemed like it,” Alex says lightly. “But I didn’t even know him, really."

“I can…I don’t know, I’ll stop listening to Death Maiden. And we don’t have to learn their songs, we still don’t even know the Zeppelin one -”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, kiddo. You listen to whatever you want, okay? That’s not why I told you.”

“Then why?”

Alex takes her time considering the question, wanting to make it make sense. “It just felt like a big thing to keep a secret from you.”

He holds eye contact for a long moment before looking away. “Can we watch the movie?”

Alex looks at Piper, searching for reassurance.  Her smile is gentle and approving.   
  
So Alex nods, “Yeah, Monster, go ahead and start the movie.”

He looks over at Piper. “Mom, will you turn off the lights?”

Piper gets up and flicks the switch for the living room while Max finds and clicks on the movie. When she settles onto the couch again, she stretches across the back of the couch again, fingers tangling gently in Alex’s hair.

Max is quieter than usual, not once whispering tidbits about the differences between the movie and the short story it’s based on. About twenty minutes into the movie, Alex feels him sink a little heavier against her side. She combs her fingers absently through his hair. He lets her.

* * *

 

Max doesn’t like thinking about this.

It’s really weird and embarrassing to realize he’s been playing Death Maiden music all week, right in front of his moms, and neither of them mentioned the drummer was, like, his freaking grandfather.

Though Momma hadn’t used that word. Not like when they talk about Grandma Diane, even though Max never met her either.

It’s hard to imagine either of his mothers before they were adults, but with Mom at least there are photos all over grandparents’ house, plus stories he’s heard from Uncle Cal or Grandpa or Grandma. With Momma, though, there’s no one around to tell stories.

Max feels kinda bad that he never wondered at all about her, even though he’s old enough to know by now that most people have two parents, and if one’s gone there’s usually a reason, and the reason usually isn’t very good.

He knows she was pretty poor growing up. Momma told him that when they gave him the whole talk about why she was in prison when he was little (which is his _least_ favorite talk, because _really_ , no other kids have to be told that breaking the law is bad, or that prison isn’t fun, and he hated the way his mom’s face looked when Momma made sure to tell him how dangerous it ended up being), and also because they once went through Northampton on a trip and drove by where his moms met, and where Mom went to college, and finally where Momma used to live. It was a trailer park, and he’d been really surprised.  Max doesn't know anyone who lives in a trailer.

Except he still didn’t think much about until right now, when he knows the second and third Death Maiden records sold a lot of copies, and they had a lot of big tours, so Lee Burley probably had lots of money.

He _really_ , really doesn’t like thinking about this.

They finish the movie and no one brings up Lee again, except his moms keep looking at each other all serious and raising eyebrows like they’re reading each others minds. That’s always annoying, but right now it makes him feel like something’s wrong, so Max retreats to his bedroom as soon as he gets a chance.

He deletes Death Maiden from his Spotify playlists and turns on some of the quieter, acoustic type music that Cash doesn’t know he listens to.  He likes it because he can listen while he's reading without getting distracted, except right now it’s hard to focus on his book. He finally he grabs his phone and texts his mom.

_Can you come up here for a sec??_

He thinks for a moment, then adds:

_Just you though._

Less than two minutes later, she’s knocking on his bedroom and pushing it open without waiting for an answer. “What's up, baby?”

“I don’t know,” he answers automatically, which is a dumb thing to say since he obviously asked her to come up here. “Just. I feel kinda bad about playing that music all week in front of Momma.”

“Max…” She closes the door behind her, which he’s glad about, and comes in to sit on his bed. “You don’t have to feel bad, I promise. You didn’t know, and anyway, I _promise_ Momma’s fine. I think it just surprised her a little.”

“Yeah…” He trails off for a moment, habitually wrapping the cord for his earbuds around his fingers. “Did Momma…I mean, was she sad about her dad not being with them?”

“I think…when she first met him, she's been pretty excited to finally see him, so when she found out he wasn’t a very good guy, that was tough.”

“You think it hurt her feelings?”

“Yeah, I'm sure it did. But for the most part, I think she was okay.  She and her mom were really close.”

“Yeah.  I wish Grandma Diane was still alive.”  He says it because it doesn’t seem fair that they only have family on one side, but for a second his mom's face gets so sad Max has to look away.

“Me, too,” she says quietly, in this voice that makes him nervous. He changes the subject back fast.

“But I don’t really wanna listen to Death Maiden anymore, anyway. They kinda suck.”

That makes her smile a little.  “Yeah. I think so, too.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t decide to be a drummer.”

His mom grins, even though he’s not trying to be funny. “You’re a really sweet kid, you know that?”

He sighs. “I’m thirteen.”

“Fine, you’re a really sweet thirteen year old. Better?”

Almost smiling, Max nods.

 

* * *

 

Piper leaves her son’s door cracked open and goes downstairs to their bedroom, where Alex is stretched out on top of the comforter with a copy of one of Max’s godawful horror books. She lifts her eyes, face swarmed with poorly concealed worry. “He okay?”

“Yeah.” Piper crawls onto the bed beside her, pillowing her head on her arms and looking up at Alex. “He feels bad about playing the music around you all week.”

“God…” Alex exhales heavily, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t want him feeling _guilty_. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I think it’s good that he knows. For both of you.” She's quiet for a moment, working herself up to looking at Alex again, and her question comes out so soft. “So you saw him after your mom died?”

“Yeah.” Alex answers like she’s been waiting for that.  "Sorry." 

“You never told me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose. I just didn’t think about it.” She smiles wryly. “We had enough shit going on without me catching you up on eight years worth of it.”

“What happened?”

“It was almost two months after the funeral, I think...before Fahri died. We were mostly staying in Paris, still, but he was always seeing clients in New York on weekends, remember? I tagged along once because he was the one who always had drugs.” She says this matter of factly, her voice years removed from the mess she was at that time, but Piper still can’t hear about it without hurt tangling up in her chest.

“Anyway. Lee was still one of the clients.” Alex rolls her eyes. “Playing some shitty bar, even worse place than the first time I met him. I went because…I don’t know, the idea of him still being alive when my mom wasn’t made me so fucking angry. I started wishing I’d stayed to yell at him, tell him what a piece of shit he was that first time. So I was planning to do it, got backstage all pissed off and hopped up on whatever pills Fahri had that night. Except he didn’t even recognize me. Of course he didn’t. He made some feeble attempt at hitting on me, but he was too high to really make any sense."

For the first time, there’s a crack in Alex’s expression that lets the ghosts in, and she no longer seems twenty years removed from the story she’s telling. “It hit me that I was more like him than my mom. Lonely asshole junkies, both of us.” She shakes her head in disbelief at her younger self, the distance returning to her eyes as she adds easily, “Not that it was enough to make me quit. Just break down crying in a cab on the way back to the hotel.”

Piper doesn’t say anything for awhile. She rolls over, fitting herself against Alex’s side, cheek resting on her shoulder, like she can offer far too belated comfort.

Piper knows Alex still hates the fact that she missed so much from the first four years or so of Max’s life, that her memories of him at that age are limited to a prison visitation room. Even though they know there was no avoiding it, that if Alex hadn’t been in prison they likely wouldn’t have Max anyway - she’s still acutely aware of what she missed.

Sometimes Piper feels the same way about the years after Diane died. Even though she fervently believes they’ve ended up exactly where they're supposed to be, and that all the hurt and anger and even the separation they had to slog through was maybe the only route to _this..._ Piper still can't help wishing she had been there. It’s hard to imagine Alex that way, and it’s even harder to think of her that alone.

But then Alex looks at Piper, smiling in a way that’s rooted firmly in the present: not lonely at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's actually a whole second half that spins off from this - but this was already longer than I intended for this collection, and the next sequence is loosely connected enough that it'll be just a sort of "part two". So there's a good chance I'll post that soon before going back to Max as a five year old.


End file.
